The Price of Persimmons
by pennyandpearl
Summary: She thought it was the beginning of a life together. He thought he was making their lives better.
1. Chapter 1

Gin didn't approach the girl lying on the ground right away. For a moment he watched the light flicking through the forest tree tops blink over her, no sign of movement from the body he knew to be female. The light danced across her chest and shoulders beneath the trees that moved under the warm breeze.

She didn't move, lying on her back, the light playing shades of bright copper through her strawberry blonde hair. After a moment of careful study Gin saw her chest slowly rise and fall in shallow breaths. She had a particularly well endowed bosom for a girl her age, his age, as far as he could tell. He hadn't gotten too close to too many girls his age in Rukongai. Most were put off by what he'd heard was a shifty look to his features.

He sighed, edging closer, hugging his precious persimmons to his chest. A body in the forest was one thing, but the dead body of a girl about his age was worse. Not good. At least she wasn't dead. Maybe close to it, though, judging from her condition.

He was within arm's reach when he squatted beside her, eyes roving over her bare feet and slender ankles to her dirty and rumpled clothing that was as frayed and worn as his own.

Bodies lying unattended could be traps, and while Gin had nothing of worth to steal if she was some sort of bait, he valued his persimmons. He stood, at the ready to run if need be, feeling a slight swell of familiarity from her. She was like him. He could feel it.

Her lips moved as if to swallow, but they were too dry, her movements weak.

He held a persimmon out to her, the edge touching her parched lips. "Here. Eat this."

It wasn't the most inviting thing to say, and he'd wanted to be more eloquent when first meeting anyone who might be like him -- might have that surge in his body that made him hunger unlike the rest of the villagers.

Her eyes flitted open, catching him off guard in their blueness. He smiled a little. "If you're hungry," he added, not knowing what else to say. "Are you?"

Her eyes focused on the fruit, her hand going to her face, and then reaching for the offering. She took a bite, eyes closing only to open and shoot to him as she chewed dryly.

He crouched and sat back as she took another bite. "You've got it too. Don't know if it's a blessing or a curse yet. But it's different, you know?"

She licked her lips and took a moment to brace her elbow beneath her and sit up, leaning to one hip, the half eaten persimmon tight in her hand.

His gaze dropped to where the front of her kimono had fallen open a bit, exposing nothing of her chest, but less than decent. She gave him a meek look and pulled it shut, tightening the sash at her waist with one hand.

"Well, if you're nigh onto collapsing from hunger, you've got it," he said when she didn't say anything, munching on the persimmon, eyes on him. "No one here understands it. The hunger."

She nodded.

"I'm Gin. Gin Ichimaru," he said when she swallowed the last big bite of the fruit. "You got a name to tell?"

"Rangiku," she said hoarsely, coughing a little. She belched, seeming surprised by it. "Rangiku Matsumoto."

He nodded, grinning, hoping for the same from her. A hint of smile crossed her dry lips.

"Nice to meet you, Rangiku Matsumoto." He held out another persimmon. "You live around here? A tree? A cave, maybe?"

She smiled more, giggling a bit. "No. Not in a tree, or a cave." She looked down at the persimmon, licking her lips that were beginning to crack. "Do you?"

He shrugged, hugging the rest of the persimmons closer. "No, not a tree or a cave."

This time her smile was more until she took a bite of the second fruit.

"But, yep, I live around here." He stood up. "You think you can walk around, Rangiku Matsumoto?"

She nodded, the persimmon tight in her hand, one cheek bulging with a large bite as she chewed. She looked to his hand as he worked one free from the persimmons and extended it to her. Her eyes rose to his.

"Come on. I'll show you where." His smile creased wider, sun topping almost white on his hair, his eyes seeming to disappear in the smile.

"Show me?" Suspicion hinted her voice.

His fingers curled in beckon, palm up. "Rain's coming soon. We can beat it back and stay dry, but you gotta get on your feet, Rangiku Matsumoto."

She looked to the sky above the gently swaying tree tops. "I don't see any clouds."

"You can smell the rain, can't you? Water in the air?"

All she could smell at that moment was persimmons and something else. Maybe not a smell, but a thick feeling that wasn't on her skin. Somewhere beneath her skin, inside her clothes.

"Come on. We can get outta the rain. More to eat," he said, grin turning enticing.

She smiled faintly. She let her hand rest in his, a little embarrassed at the dirt on her fingers. He didn't seem to notice, hand closing around hers as she rose. Her other hand was at her kimono collar as it loosened again, the persimmon still clutched.

He looked up at her, her height topping his by a few inches. "You always go with strangers?"

There was nothing harsh in his tone, simply a cautious wonder. She shook her head, the movement bringing on a little dizziness. His fingers closed tighter on hers as he saw her sway.

"How far?" she asked.

"Not too much." He stepped away, one hand on the persimmons bundled to his chest as he pulled her with him. "Not too much to see, but it's dry, if you sit in the right spots."

She nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

They didn't make it in time, not ahead of the rain. By the time they reached the small shack deeper in the woods the rain had caught them, planting fat drops of water over boy and girl until their tops were soaked from the shoulders to waist, clothes heavy and cool for even the late summer's warm day. Rangiku's stomach had cramped at the sudden introduction of food after being so long without, and she'd decided eating any time soon would lead to worse aches.

Gin had agreed with her reasoning as they both listened to her stomach complain on the journey through the woods.

Rangiku looked at the thick trees around them as Gin found the tiny unkempt shack in a small clearing. There was a sudden stillness their presence brought amidst the birds in the trees, seeming almost cautionary, rain the only sound to be heard. Gin still clutched the persimmons to his chest, his other hand on the back of her shoulder as they reached the doorway of the shack.

She paused, her bare feet hesitant to enter the single room building that had been repaired in more spots than she could count. A ragged tan canvas hung across the doorway.

Gin leaned over her shoulder, smiling more as he saw her reluctance to go in. "No one's here. Just you and me. No problems there, right?"

She looked to him, her hair hanging in wet curls at her neck, wishing she could see his eyes more clearly than the mere slits of blue-green in the late afternoon. At least, that's what color she thought they were. His hair was plastered to his head, dripping around his face.

"You live alone?" she asked. A crack of thunder ripped overhead, making them both look to the wet sky.

He nodded. "Just me. Now maybe you?" He felt her shoulder tense beneath his hand. "Unless you've got somewhere else to be."

She shook her head as he pushed the canvas aside. She saw little, save for a tatami mat rolled to one side and a small pile of rocks forming a circle with ashes in the center near one wall, a small metal pot over it. She took a step in, glancing to either side to see a bundle of wood at one and a basket of dried persimmons to the other.

Gin stepped around her and knelt to set the persimmons in his arms in another basket near the first of dried fruit. It was nearly unwoven, the reeds tied to each other in an effort to retain the sagging shape.

He stood and looked to her, eyes dropping over her as she hugged her arms tightly crossed over her chest. "You cold? I know it's warm out, but the rain makes it cold."

She nodded, licking the rain from her lips.

He went to the tatami mat and unrolled the single blanket there. He held it out to her. "It's not real clothes, but if you turn your back, I won't look. I promise."

She nodded, stepping to the side of the small room by the kindling. He turned his back, nodding.

"Go ahead, Rangiku."

She turned her back to him and held up the blanket. It was large, patched in several spots, and had formerly been part of a tent, she guessed. She looked to the canvas covering the doorway, seeing that they matched in color and fabric. She untied her obi and loosened her wet kimono.

"Where've you been staying?"

By the sound of his voice she knew he still had his back to her. She let the wet kimono drop, whisking the large beige material around her shoulders, scooping her arms under the sides and pulling it close to her chest.

"Wherever I end up." She flicked her wet hair out from the collar of the canvas. "Just wandering, trying to get people to let me work for scraps I can eat."

She turned around, and for a moment said nothing as she watched him stand still, his back to her, his short top wet to his waist where it was belted with a thick obi. "You're wet, too."

He turned around at the change in the sound of her voice. He nodded at her makeshift attire. "Well, rain gets us all wet." He untied the obi. "If you don't mind a half-naked man with you."

He chuckled as he said it, bringing a smile from her.

"You're not a man, Gin," she said, smiling wider at his name. "Not yet."

He let the shirt hang loose and tossed the obi to one side of the tatami mat. He took her wet kimono and hung it on one of the three wooden pegs that jutted from a post near the fire pit. "Not quite boy still, you know." He knelt at the ring of stones. "You're close to woman yourself."

She stepped closer to the fire pit, sinking to her ankles as he waved a hand at her, hands clutching the material before her. "Are you cold?"

"Nope." He arranged the kindling in the pit that had been cut into the wooden flooring. He took a set of flints from his pocket.

She looked more closely at him, his thin chest exposed at the open collars of his shirt. She blushed a little at the telltale dimples on his chest. "You _are_ cold. I can see it."

He muttered something as he struck the flints against each other, catching a spark to the dry kindling. "Not so much."

She took a moment to ease the canvas across her shoulders, working it carefully until there was half of it draped to one side while she was still covered with the other side. She pulled her hands tight at her chest with chilled fingers. He looked to the excess canvas.

"I know you're cold," she said as he turned back to the fire.

He bent more to gently blow on the meager flames until they licked higher around the thin pieces of wood. "Do you want to eat something?"

"My stomach still hurts."

"Yep, I guess it does." He cleared his throat. "Do you like carrots?"

She nodded, watching his hands arrange the wood so it grew into taller flames. "Share this with me. There's enough."

He looked to her hand as she freed it from her clasp at her chest, watching it reappear at the edge of the tan material to shake the extra canvas. It slipped back beneath the blanket out of sight.

"I guess so." He rested on his knees and pulled off the wet shirt and hung it to the wall at the side of the fire near her kimono. "Since you don't mind," he said, crouching beside her and lifting the free side of the canvas, not too much. Not enough to uncover her.

But she blushed anyway. He watched the pink shed bright over her cheeks as her eyes dropped to the fire.

"But if you mind, Rangiku, I --"

"No, no," she insisted, fingers gripping the canvas tighter.

He pulled the canvas around him, barely over his shoulders, leaving her plenty of the material. For a few moments they watched the fire grow higher, listening to the rain falling on the slanted roof of the shack, hearing it drip in several spots onto the broken wood flooring. He saw her eyes go to one of the spots where the rain was splashing at the corner.

The drops plinked onto the wood that had worn to a shallow indentation over years of the leak, filling with rain and emptying as quickly as the next raindrop splattered water out of the small puddle. Rangiku's eyes flicked to Gin to catch his stare.

"Do you like carrots?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yup, but they take so long to grow, you know? Not like --" He stopped himself, frowning at her expectant expression. "Well, they do."

"You know that?" Her interest made her voice rise.

He nodded, unsure to share his secret. Food was hard to secure in a place where no one ate, and even stealing it was near impossible. One couldn't steal what wasn't available.

She giggled, watching confusion slip over his face. "You know it's harder to grow carrots than ... what?"

He shrugged, the movement tugging at the blanket draped beneath her nearly dry hair. "Anything, I suppose."

She nodded slowly, looking at the frown that creased his mouth firmer. "Do you grow carrots, Gin?"

This time his shrug tautened the canvas until it pulled her an inch closer. "When I can."

She turned to face him more, eyes brightening. "You've been here, in this spot, long enough to plant things?"

"Well, it's just --"

"You have?" She sighed wistfully, smiling at the fire. "I've never been anywhere long enough to try that..." Her voice fell off, her gaze focusing on a memory. Her head dipped slightly, and then her face turned to him, a faint smile on her lips. "I got run off from the last village because they caught me eating beets."

"Beets?" He grinned at the way her lips moved when she said it.

She nodded. "I couldn't lie. My chin was red."

He chuckled. "You shoulda stole something not so colorful, Rangiku. Did you think of that?"

She leaned away a little, tugging him with her as she smiled. "I was supposed to have the beets. I was boiling them for dye. That was my job; stirring the boiling pot for the dye master. But I wasn't supposed to eat them." She sighed. "I never ran so fast in my life."

"You worked in dye?" He nodded, pulling her back with a strategic shrug. "That's a good job."

"I wanted to take my pay in beet mash, but they fed _that_ to the hogs." She looked to the fire that was now sending off a good amount of heat. "Hogs to feed to those Soul Reapers."

He nodded, sighing, following her gaze to the flames before them. "Yep, they eat well. No one starving _there_."

She licked her lips at the idea, and then flinched as a loud crack of thunder broke the still rain. She reached into her pants, fumbling for a moment as her fingers dug in a pocket.

He watched the shapes her movements made beneath the canvas, her elbow nudging his arm a few times as she pulled her hand from her pants.

Her arm emerged from the canvas blanket and she held out her palm for him to see, smiling in hopes of his reaction. On it laid a dusty collection of round, knobby, dried-looking crumbles. "Beet seeds," she said. "I took a few. Most fell out. My other pocket had a hole."

Gin pulled one hand from holding the blanket, fingers pushing a few of the seeds across her palm. "Never seen beet seeds before. They look crusty."

She nodded. "I think they're okay to use."

He watched her fingers curl over the palm as the seeds shifted in her hand. "Too late to plant them now. Summer's almost up. They'd just get a little above the ground and die in the frost."

She nodded, lips pursing as she studied the seeds peeking between her fingers. "Maybe we could plant them in the spring?" Her breath caught and she lowered her hand, eyes shooting to his. "I mean, they could be planted in the spring, Gin," she said hastily. "That's the best time to plant things, right?"

He wasn't sure why the idea of still being around the damp, auburn-haired girl in the spring made him grin more, but it did. "Yep, spring would be best."

His grin was contagious, and Rangiku smiled back. She pulled her hand back under the canvas, this time her arm resting alongside his beneath the material.

Neither moved away, watching the fire as the rain pelted the rooftop, sounds of the thunder rumbling now in the distance.

"What's the worst thing you ever ate, Gin?"

He didn't have to think about it. "A rope."

"You ate a rope?" She giggled until she had to cross her arm over her chest for support, the laugh making her stomach cramp more. "A _rope_?"

He nodded, liking the sound of her giggle, returning her amusement with a reddening face and a sigh. "It was terrible."


	3. Chapter 3

The rain turned for the worse, not a full-fledged storm, but a harder rain that drenched the small shack without mercy. The fire sputtered and threatened to go out inside, making Gin leave the shelter of the canvas tent he and Rangiku had made with each other to shore up the kindling and with larger pieces of dried wood.

The shack was more than warm, the outside air pushing in with heat and moisture until the inside was humid. It made for slow drying of the two pieces of clothing hanging from the pegs on the wall near the fire.

By the time night had fully fallen and bedtime was unavoidable, Rangiku's kimono was still wet at the bottom hem. Gin gave her his shorter, now dry top to wear.

It was an awkward first night. Rangiku had never blushed so much in one day.

"Go ahead," Gin had insisted, turning his back as she pulled on his dry top when the moon was high overhead, the shack dark except for the light cast by the low fire in the pit. "It's late."

She watched him for a moment, debating undressing down to her bare torso again, and the night before her. Them. He wasn't a man nor she yet a woman, but there were improprieties. She quickly whisked on the short jacket top and tied it. Not quite a good fit, but better than wearing a wet garment to bed.

She lifted one edge of the collar, inhaling the scent running through the material. Him. Undeniably him.

She was already under the canvas blanket by the time he readied for bed, the material bundled to her chin despite the damp warmth of the shack. He slipped beneath the covering, positioned on the mat so he was still partly off even as she was. It was a large blanket, with more than enough for both of them, but neither wanted to move away.

It wasn't all because of the tatami mat, both knew, yet they remained close to each other, not quite touching, but plenty close, as if the newly found spiritual presence they shared independently was more of a bond than either had realized.

For a long while they lay still in the dark, the meager fire ebbing lower, the sound of the rain on the roof and the plink-plink of the leaking spot the only noises. Rangiku found that she was holding her breath, unsure why, as she wasn't ill at ease with her new acquaintance. At first she thought it was the newness to being indoors during the night, a dry spot in her otherwise damp and element-exposed nights over the last few weeks of travel.

She sighed, her lungs beginning to ache as she needed air. Beside her Gin chuckled.

"If you're nervy about it, I can sleep on the other side of the fire," he said, his voice low at her side. "Not a problem, Rangiku."

"No, it's no ... I'm okay." Her fingers let the edge of the blanket slip from her chin. "Thanks for sharing. Gin."

He shifted slightly on the mat, no closer, just enough to let his posture relax with her proximity. "Never really shared much. No one wants food. Makes it scarcer to get, but not many to share with."

She nodded, the movement lost in the dimming light thrown from the lapsing fire. She wanted to ask him questions, know more about the garden, how long he'd been there, if he had any friends, family.

She doubted many of the last few. Rukongai wasn't eager to welcome strangeness, no one out of the ordinary, and Gin was definitely different.

Not just the spiritual ripple she felt from him, but his fair hair, his strangely colored narrow eyes, his very manners. _Not shy exactly_, she thought, fighting the sleep that threatened to engulf her senses, but something reserved.

Watchful.

She wanted to stay awake and revel in the dry bed, her satisfied belly that was starting to ease in cramping, and the nearly tangible presence of someone like her, but sleep won over.

* * *

Rangiku got her first look at the garden the next day. The dew was heavy on the lush grass, the rain having abated after midnight, but with moisture burning hot already in the early morning, lending weight to their now dried clothing as they moved among the small clearing in the woods.

She pushed her hair over her shoulder, twisting it into a long length that fell to her chest when she leaned over to look at the patch of plants Gin had raised over the last few months.

"Harvest is coming into full now," he said, stepping among the plants in haphazard bunches by type in the black, root-knotted soil. "Weeds got most everything a few years, but this summer is better. Ground's still rooty."

She eagerly followed him among the bushy bean plants, smiling at the colorful chards and squash plants that billowed as high as her knees, the long yellow vegetables begging to be eaten.

"You have all this? You're rich, Gin," she breathed enviously.

He grinned and knelt at a squash plant, taking a moment to pluck a long slender yellow vegetable from it, fingers pressing into the skin to check for tenderness. He handed it to her. "Here. Soft enough to eat now."

She took it slowly, wanting to snatch it away and devour it, but making herself hesitate. "For me?"

He nodded, his grin turning into a smile as she pulled the gift closer. "These squash plants make lots of 'em. Good crops. Not all buggy like last year. Go ahead. It's clean from the rain."

She looked down at the yellow fruit, feeling more selfish. "I'll share it with you."

"Go ahead and eat it all." He shrugged and continued on through the small garden. "Beans have all about gone to seed, but there's a few here and there. Eggplants are starting to happen. They take so long, you know? All summer and then some, and they don't like the cold. But them," he pointed to the brightly colored chard with gold and red stalks topped by green and burgundy frilled leaves, "those can take the cold."

Rangiku sank her teeth into the very center of the squash, the juicy, whitish flesh too young to be seedy, the light taste making her smile. Gin grinned at her, chuckling at her delight in the vegetable, and watched her eat it all as he explained every plant in the garden.

There weren't many varieties, the summer squash and chards, beans and a row of carrots, and a highly productive single plant of eggplant that yielded fist-sized round, light green fruits, plus a few hard squash plants whose long vines wandered freely all over. The eggplant weren't very good to eat raw, she discovered, being more corky-like than the squash, and nearly tasteless, but he showed her how to cook them in the dented tin pot over the fire with a few beans and carrots that afternoon, and she found them much better.

The first day dissolved into another night, this one hotter than the first, but no rain, and then the days into more. Rangiku didn't question him as closely as she wanted to, sensing a guardedness despite their similarities, and while Gin never refused to answer her questions when she did ask, the answers sometimes didn't tell her anything.

"Where have you lived longest?" she asked as they lay awake the fourth night, the humid darkness too thick to sleep, but not enough for rain.

He sighed, his arm resting against hers at his side as they stared at nothing in the inky night. "Here, I guess. Most likely."

She nodded, frowning. "Why stay here, Gin?"

He shrugged, his arm moving beside hers, and in response hers settling closer again. "Best shelter, I guess. Finally got the weeds and enough of the roots cleared outta the garden spot. Takes a long time."

Her fingers twisted in the blanket at her waist, thoughts turning through the dozens of questions she had. "You haven't told me to leave yet," she said quietly, not wanting to voice the words, but needing to. He hadn't said much about her being there, a few allusions to spring and planting and the winter squash that were rambling with vines of pale orange fruits all over the garden perimeter.

But nothing concrete. No direct invite.

"I thought you'd stay here, Rangiku," he said, his tone void of any grin or smile. He rose onto one elbow to look at her, seeing only the vague outline of her face in the dark shack. "You don't want to?"

She nodded, a movement he could feel more than see on the roll of extra canvas they called a pillow. "I do, but ... I don't have anything. Anything in return, to share," she said. She could see very little of him in the cloudy moonlight that seeped in through the small window. "I don't know much about a garden, and not much about how to cook what's in one, and I --"

"Don't worry about that," he said, dropping back down beside her. "That's not a trouble. You're welcome to stay, long as you want," he said, his voice dropping a little, "but if you don't want to, want to move on, okay. You can."

She nodded, smiling in the dark, wondering why the simple roundabout words of invitation were so comforting from a boy she hardly knew.

"I hope you stay, Ran," he added in a somber tone.

She looked over at him, his face only a few inches away on the lumpy roll of pillow. "Ran?"

"Well, by the time I get through the whole _Ran-gi-ku_, you know who I'm talking to, and its sucha long name when I'm in a hurry, and so --"

"Its fine," she said with a giggle as his elbow nudged her side. By accident, she figured. "Ran is fine."

"Good."

She could hear the grin back in his voice.

"Thought we'd go to market tomorrow. See if I can find some work for the harvest. Those Soul Reapers gotta eat, and someone's gotta bring in the fields for the field masters," he said, his tone over even a more serious subject seeming to take on an amused lilt. "Maybe scrape off my pay in extras, or maybe let me glean the leftovers."

"I'll see if I can help, too," she said, warming to the idea. "Two workers would --"

"You can't," he said pointedly, tone grave now. "Not in the fields, Ran. Lots of bad things happen to girls in field work. I've heard of it. You can't, and I want you to promise not to try it."

His demand was at once protective and wounding at the same time, confusing her. "But I want to help at _something_, Gin."

"Something else, then, but not in the field. Okay?"

She sighed.

"Okay? Please?"

The genuine concern in the words held no amusement now, and she felt her first flush of needful trust. It was a different kind of warmth, not on her skin, not even just under her skin, but somewhere deep in her bones.

"Not in the fields," she agreed.

"Good."

"Somewhere else."

He nodded, sighing. "Somewhere else, Ran-chan."


	4. Chapter 4

There was little work to be had in town, but it didn't keep Gin and Rangiku from spending the next day inquiring. While Gin's fair hair and mischievous grin kept many of the vendors along the stall rows at bay at what they assumed to be itchy, thieving fingers on their wares, Rangiku's personable looks and sunny smile drew the more welcome attention. But still there was no work to be found.

Gin hadn't wanted her to come along, but she wore that needy look on her face early that morning, and he'd relented to the subtle pout that he didn't even think she knew her lips were making. They headed to town early, just as the sun was drying the dew along the grassy path Gin had tried to keep his trips from making through the undergrowth of the woods. It opened to the back of a potter's shop, and had been a safe spot for his covert entries into the town for several years.

"Oh, look at those," Rangiku said as they passed the busy, hot mainway of the markets, the sun already making the usual smells riper in the heat. Her blue eyes were fastened on the bins of beads at a tented table where a woman was working a beading loom. "Bean seeds, Gin." Rangiku's hand clutched his coat hem. "We could plant them, right? Maybe not this year, but next."

"If'n we had them," he said, eyes moving over the bins where the bean seeds being sold as beads were arranged by size. "You wanna look closer at them, Ran?"

She smiled equally at her new nickname as at the thought of finding a new source of possible food, nodding fervently.

Gin and Rangiku joined the other women and a few younger girls already milling around the table where the woman was weaving the smaller dried pea and bean seeds into decorative bands and necklaces and fringe. The seeds had been left to dry hard and then had holes drilled through them, making the once edible beans into fanciful beads. Some were already colorful enough by variety, but others were painted.

The women of Rukongai weren't interested in the beans as seeds, but as jewelry and adornments, their chatter blithely ignorant of the two youths who ogled the tables with hungry eyes. Rangiku leaned over one bin of white and dark red beans, the splotches making pinto patterns on the fingernail-size beans.

She looked to Gin, who was glimpsing the golden yellow and brown beans in another bin. "Maybe we could get a few of the cracked ones, or maybe some that have the holes drilled wrong. Those should be cheap. Maybe even free."

Gin had his doubts. "Nothing gonna be free here, Ran," he said close to her ear so the woman working the loom wouldn't be offended.

The woman's hands moved deftly over the threads and small bean seed beads, creating patterns in the fringe she was making for a scarf.

"You like that?" Gin asked Rangiku as her eyes remained on the woman's work. "You like the beaded fringe?"

Rangiku sighed. "Of course, it's nice, but I'd rather have the beans with no holes in them."

He chuckled, taking her elbow to move her along the table to the larger beans separated by color and size. "Your stomach's bigger than your vanity."

She nodded, smiling more as a few of the women move away from the table. She took their place, working up her nerve to ask the woman a question.

Before she could, Gin spoke.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said in as genuine a respectful tone as he could. "Do you have any beads without holes in them?"

The woman's look of affront descended on him and Rangiku as if he'd spoken blasphemy. "I most certainly _do not_. None of my beads are deformed or undrilled. Every one of them is hand picked for perfection and color and highly polished for utmost beauty." Her caustic glare lifted a little as she looked to Rangiku standing beside him. "If you're looking for cheap beads, you'll not find them here."

"Oh, uh, no," he said, a little bit of his carefully placed smile falling. "I was hoping you had some, eh, blanks, that hadn't gotten their holes yet."

"We do not sell raw materials."

The woman's attention snapped back to her work, and to her paying customers.

Rangiku shrugged as Gin looked to her. "What about a few of the inexpensive beads, Gin?" she asked, leaning closer to him.

"Won't be no good," he said, taking her arm and pulling her away from the table. "Beans with holes in them have got their life drilled out of them. Can't plant them. Well, you can," he added as they moved through the thick crowds, "but they won't grow. You'd just be burying them."

"Oh."

There was a bump of Gin's back and a jostle of his arm, and they both looked to a couple of young men in black robes pushing their way through the crowds. Despite his cautious steps, Gin knocked Rangiku flat onto her knees and palms.

Gin was going to demand an apology from the older youths -- and likely have gotten himself beaten up, he realized, getting a better look at their size -- but the two shinigami had already rushed off.

He'd felt them, the wafting spiritual presence that swirled around them. Not strong, not as strong as he had felt around other shinigami in the market, but he could feel it.

"Moron trainees," he muttered, extending a hand to Rangiku as she got to her feet and dusted off her knees. "Bullying their way through."

"Did you feel that?" she asked, wiping her knees and looking after the young men. "I felt it."

He nodded. "Yeah, you did. He made me knock you down, Ran."

"Not that," she said, shaking her head as she read his grin. "Oh, you _know_ what I mean, Gin."

"Yeah, I know." He brushed a spot of dirt from her elbow.

"It wasn't as strong as being around you," she said as they took a few steps back into the crowds.

He looked to her sharply, grin crooking into a lopsided line. "No?"

"No."

"You can tell?"

She nodded, smiling a little more, this time with a faint blush. "I know you when you're near."

He chuckled, flattered and curious, but then felt a much thicker reiatsu billow around them.

"I think you dropped this," an older, deeper voice said.

Both Gin and Rangiku turned to see the Soul Reaper who'd followed them. He was a little older than them, his black robes indicating he was a membered shinigami, but neither Gin nor Rangiku were familiar enough with the ranks to know which Division.

Sousuke Aizen held out his hand, in it a small pouch closed with a drawstring. "Are you all right?" he asked Rangiku, his eyes shielded by the reflection from his glasses, an amiable smile on his face. "Those brutes from Eleventh Squad are always in a hurry."

Rangiku nodded, but it was Gin who replied.

"She's okay." He shook his head at the pouch. "We didn't drop that."

Aizen shrugged, shaking the pouch. A rattle was heard from it. "Perhaps it was one of them. Take it," he said, his smile inviting. When Rangiku didn't reach for it, he held it to Gin. "Consider it an apology for trampling your friend."

Gin nodded, reservations slipping as the young shinigami gave him a smile. "You're one of them Soul Reapers."

"Barely," Aizen said, sighing. His voice dropped so only Gin and Rangiku could hear amid him the boisterous crowds. "They're testing applicants before the winter. If either of you is of the mind to apply."

"Maybe," Gin said, hand taking the pouch and clutching it tightly, trying to read more behind the man's eyes. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Rangiku finally said, finding her voice.

Aizen nodded and walked away, dissolving into the foot traffic that was moving mostly to the thick of town.

Rangiku and Gin watched him go.

"They're not all brutes," she said, eyes going back to Gin. "What did he give you?"

"Let's find out."

He took her elbow and moved her to a side alley between the stalls selling baskets and cloth. They hurried to the back of the last stalls, turning their backs on the sparser crowds before opening the pouch to see their new possession.

Rangiku watched with expectation as Gin's fingers pulled loose the drawstring and opened wide the pouch top. Inside were a handful of assorted bean seeds, all undrilled.

"Ooh, they're real seeds, Gin," she said, her voice half a squeal in excitement before she reined it in to a softer whisper. Her fingers closed over his arm, pressing happily as she smiled. "We can plant them, right?"

"Right."

He frowned, and she frowned at him.

"They're okay to plant?"

He nodded, shaking the beans in his hand.

"What do you think about what he said, Ran?"

She looked to each of his eyes, frowning at what she could see of the pale blue of them. "About the testing?"

He nodded. "Soul Reaper Academy. You know we've got it. Maybe not enough to get us in, but maybe enough to apply. See how it works and maybe try again next year."

She nodded slowly. "It's got to be hard to pass, Gin. I don't see many Soul Reapers on the streets. Maybe we don't have enough of, well, whatever it is."

"That stuff hungry in your soul, Ran," he said lowly, looking back to the seeds. "The stuff that makes you starve and steal."

She nodded quietly. "But we don't starve now, Gin. You saw to that."

He looked wistfully to where the Seireitei rose above the ragged towns surrounding it, the pale and white buildings like a dull pearl on the slope from his view of it, a land of full bellies and like minds, souls brimming with that lusty welling in him. The possibilities that waited there could only be imagined.

Possibilities only available to those who applied.

* * *

The idea was still on Gin's mind that night, had been all day, past the rest of he and Rangiku's fruitless pursuit of some sort of employment that day, past the meal they'd made of carrots and sweet potatoes -- which he decided he would _not_ be planting again the next year -- and past the raspberries Rangiku had found and picked on their way home.

Actually, she'd taken nearly a whole bush with them, plucking off a few of the briary branches that were heavy with dark, bubbly-looking berries. They'd taken a different way home, as Gin was prone to do from time to time, and he had no qualms about taking over half the bush with them. Rangiku wanted the berries, and he didn't want to loiter too long, not trusting the townsfolk.

Nor the few shinigami he'd seen circle back for another look at his Rangiku when they'd passed them in town. They weren't the same ones that had ran her down in town; different ones, ones under the command of another more senior member of a squad, ones a little older than Gin, old enough to appreciate the girl's curves and smile.

Gin didn't like it. Not one bit.

He sat by the tatami mat in the low light of the moon, his hand open as he looked at the seeds. They were of various colors and sizes, and some, he knew, weren't dried beans at all, but the fresh variety. Those had a soft fabric-like feel to them, almost spongy-ish. He knew they were meant for eating fresh and green when planted, not dried.

The bean seeds were a prize above most pay he'd get for a week's worth of work. They meant promise, a garden and harvest the following year, they meant survival.

They also meant a calculated _chance_ meeting with the man in the market. No one carried viable seeds around, not without intention. And no one gave them away.

He sighed. He was making too much of them, and too much of the shinigami who'd given them to him. Maybe that was the soul reaper's way of recruiting, a calling card of sorts. Keep the beans on hand just in case he ran across some hopeful reiatsu-bearing youths in the market.

He turned to see Rangiku sleeping behind him.

His Rangiku.

Her unbound excitement over the seeds surpassed the thought of applying for the Soul Reaper Academy. She was thinking of spring and planting season. She'd already separated them after dinner, dividing them into groups by color and size, and even smell.

Gin leaned closer to her now, his movements gentle so he wouldn't wake her. She smelled of raspberries, her stomach packed full of them. He didn't touch her, not even his chest that was near her arm as she lay on her side, facing away from him, her hands curled in the canvas blanket.

Her hair shone a honey-gold in the moonlight, her shape making pleasing curves under the canvas. He wanted her to wake up so he could see the deep blue of her eyes, but wanted her to sleep so he could hear her steady breathing.

Above all, he never wanted her to be hungry again.

She'd accepted him in the last week of her arrival, something no one else had done, and that was worth a _bushel_ of beans.

With a sigh he put the beans back in the small pouch and pulled the drawstring shut.

He pushed the sack under their makeshift pillow and lay down beside her, smiling a little as Rangiku's back settled closer to him, barely toughing his shoulder.

He'd gotten used to her being around quickly, her smell, the spiritual pressure that nudged back at his own. He pulled the canvas over himself, smile growing as her shoulder blade rested at his arm.

Maybe the man in the market was right. Maybe they should see if they had what it took to be Soul Reapers.


	5. Chapter 5

Rangiku had pushed the notion of Soul Reapers and the gleaming life of Seireitei out of her mind as soon as she awoke the next morning, and for the next few days. She was more intent on her pursuit of work, namely something that would help get her and Gin through the cold months promised with the chill air that swept through the woods at night.

The days were warm, harvest in full bloom, and it was this harvest that found them work. While Gin had been careful in his cultivation of the small garden under the canopy of trees near the shack, he'd planted it with himself in mind. With another hungry body in the shack, stocking up for the cold winter months was to be more of a challenge. It was one that he didn't mind, but one that put new perspectives on the root cellar he'd hollowed beneath the shack's north side flooring.

Their nearly daily trips to the market paid off when Gin managed to get employment for a few weeks harvesting sunflowers in a field that neighbored town. It was fairly easy work, more monotonous than anything else, and the sunflowers were just over his head, making them not too heavy to carry to the threshers. Rangiku was proud of him, not only that he'd gotten a job despite the sneaky appearance his smile cast over the perspective field masters, but because his protective nature had earned him a black eye when one of the men from town gave her a few words.

They sat outside the shack on the broken porch boards that evening as the whippoorwills called through the damp twilight.

"He was too big to fight, Gin," she said softly, holding the coolest side of the wet cloth to his eye. Now it truly was shut from swelling. She pushed harder on the cloth as he grinned.

"No one is too big to fight," he said, his smile somewhat hampered by the swelling at his cheek. "Too big to beat, but not too big to fight. I don't like him calling you sweet peach."

She sighed and wiped a strand of fair hair from his eye as it fell over the cloth she held to the bruising. "He was just being friendly."

"He can be friendly to someone else." He took the cloth from her and held it to his eye, looking at her feet on the broken step of the porch.

"I got a job, too."

He turned to look at her, the movement required so he could see her with his good eye. "You did? Where? When?"

She smiled and wrapped her arms around her bent knees as he gave her his full attention. "While you were talking with the field master. I spoke with the man in charge of threshing and I can thresh the dried sunflower stalks that were brought in from the fields last month. I'll be working near where you do, Gin, and not in the fields, like you said."

Her triumphant smile made his grin turn less suspicious. He nodded, lowering the cloth from his eye, his view of her out it a little blurry. "When do you start?"

"Tomorrow, like you."

He sighed, leaning over his knees at the porch side as he looked to where her toes hung over the step edge. "You gotta wear your feet wrapped under your shoes, Ran. The field's full of sharp stalks and stubble. And don't talk to the hands there."

"I won't. But I won't be in the field. We thresh in the barns." She inhaled the cool evening air. It was growing chillier by the day, the promise of autumn in the wind that seeped through the cracks in the shack sides.

"And don't leave without me, after your shift."

She nodded, watching him fold the cloth needlessly, bruised eye turned on her.

"And don't be --"

"Gin, I'm not a child," she said with a giggle, watching the tightness come to his features despite the dark eye.

"I know you're not; that's the problem, Ran. Things happen to girls when they get on to being women, and --"

"I know about those _things_," she said levelly, a bit of blush catching her cheeks as the last rays of sun dipped into the trees.

Now he looked to her with a different sort of attention.

"Well ... I do," she insisted. "Those things aren't all bad, when a girl wants them done." She wanted her voice to steady and learned, but it cracked at the last word, leaving her short sentence sounding weak.

"You shouldn't be observing stuff like that, Rangiku," he said, attempting a worldly tone. It didn't work, instead the curiosity coming through. "It's no stuff to watch."

"I didn't say I watched," she corrected, feeling her cheeks turn rosy pink under the rising moon that seemed to be shedding light exclusively on her face. "They were just there, and I was hungry so I was looking into the dye mash for spare beets. They shouldn't have been behind the dye vats. Somewhere else, somewhere ... else."

For a long moment they each stared at their feet, mostly at her feet, she noticed, seeing Gin's head turn in the direction of broken porch step where her toes had knitted themselves into crunched knots in response to her blush. She straightened them out, seeing Gin look to her face.

"Your face is red as a chrysanthemum," he said with a chuckle.

She nudged his side with an elbow, which he didn't see coming, below his damaged eye's peripheral vision. He toppled, exaggerating the movement as she laughed at him. He let a few fingers wiggle back at her, catching just under her ribs, bringing a squeak of surprise from her.

He withdrew his hand, the sash tied tight at her slender waist beneath his touch galvanizing his thoughts at the more-than-girl beside him. Her smile was the same one she'd given him on a daily basis for the last week, nothing more nor less, but in the moonlight her eyes taking on a dancing quality he was seeing for the first time.

He pushed a hand through his hair, the damp fingers from holding the cloth making the gray-white locks stand up in a few tufts at the sides. To his surprise Rangiku reached over and smoothed them down. She seemed nearly as taken aback by the movement. For a moment the pink was deeper on her cheeks, and then she stood up quickly.

"It looks like rain," she said, not glancing at the darkening skies as she said it. "We have to get up early tomorrow. I'm going to sleep, Gin."

"Yeah," he said, turning to watch go to the open doorway of the small shack. "Me, too."

* * *

Sunflowers stretched for as far as the eye could see the next morning, the field of twenty acres butting up to a line of tall raspberry hedges lining the entire field. The raspberries were of no interest to most of the field workers except for those harvesting too close to the briars, catching sleeves on the thorny branches leaning in to the field.

The berries were on Gin's mind, however. With only a few hours of work under his belt, the berries had increasingly become a distraction as he used the sickle to hack down the tall sunflowers. It was his first day on the job, the morning warm and getting warmer under the exertion of cutting down the tall, woody-stemmed plants that were a lot tougher than he'd credited them. He was in charge of six rows of the monstrously big-headed flowers full of seeds. He'd finished one row in an hour, and then spent another twenty minutes tying the plants into a large bundle to haul to dry before being taken to the threshers.

Rangiku was there, among the other young women and older girls in the barn, her being one of the youngest in the threshing floor. He could see her through the open door and he didn't like what he saw, and not for the reasons he'd been wary of.

Rangiku stood in the low barn where the floor was laid with sheets to catch the fallen seeds, beating a handful of dried sunflower stalk against the bamboo wall set up between the rows of sheets. Her hands were pricked and sore from grasping the rough sunflower stalks, her face set grimly as she swung the large flower by its woody stem.

Gin glanced to the other rows of girls and women doing the same, swinging the thick stems until the heads hit the walls, the _thunk_ echoing off the bamboo walls.

Gray sunflower seeds rained from the dried flower heads onto the sheets, girls and women grunting at the efforts, a few breathing heavily in the warm barn, gloved hands tight on the stalks. Gin dropped his bundle of sunflowers at the threshing floor edge to be hung up on the racks for drying by the attendants and made his way along the rows to where Rangiku's bright hair topped over a wall between several other women.

He didn't like the way her mouth was set in a firm line, teeth gritted as she swung the stalk in her hands. Seeds flew everywhere, a pile of gray collecting at the wall before her on the sheet. He looked each way as the foreman in charge of the threshing walked along the perimeter of the sheets, nodding and speaking to a few of the girls.

"Ran," Gin said, eyes on the man making his way down the rows.

She didn't look to him, intent on her work.

"Ran," he said again, more insistently, his swollen eye limiting his view of the man walking around the barn.

Rangiku looked to him, fingers clutching the stalk tightly. She smiled, but then her eyes darted to the foreman and she shook her head. "I can't talk now, Gin."

He frowned, and then grabbed a bunch of dried stalks lying by the wall and took them to her, stepping carefully over the piles of seeds swept to the edge of the sheets.

Rangiku spared him a look as she smacked the sunflower against the bamboo wall. "You shouldn't be here."

"Where's your gloves?" he asked, scowling at her bare hands on the stalk.

"I don't get any," she said tightly through her teeth, swinging the sunflower head into the wall. "I have to earn them. A week's pay."

"A week? A whole week for gloves?" He stood straighter and looked to the man rounding the wall. He shook his head, letting the bundle of flower stalks fall at their feet. He shucked off his canvas gloves. "Take mine."

"No. My hands are numb, Gin. It doesn't hurt anymore." She winced as she said it, as the sunflower head made a final smack against the wall. She dropped the stalk and reached for another in a separate pile. She looked to the ones he'd brought. "Those aren't the kind I'm doing. They're smaller. Those go to the next row over, Gin."

He pushed the gloves to her as he caught sight of her hands. They were scratched and red, bleeding in a few spots by her fingers. "Put 'em on, Ran."

"She has to earn her gloves," the threshing foreman said, appearing from around the wall to see them. His thin mustache turned down at the sides of his mouth, his eyes hard on both of them. "One week's pay, boy."

Gin frowned at him, still holding the gloves to Rangiku. "I'll pay my first week's earnings for them, but can she take them now?"

The man grinned, a smile that was nowhere near pleasant. "Two weeks pay."

Rangiku shook her head, pushing the gloves back to Gin. "I can wait a week."

"Don't be foolish," Gin said, forcing the gloves into her hands. He looked to the foreman. "I'll do the two weeks."

The foreman looked between them, as did a few of the other women and girls watching the exchange. The sound of stalks thrashed against the walls lulled as most eyes watched the youth with the blackened eye.

The foreman nodded, clearing his throat as he became aware of the audience studying them. "Two weeks, boy. Girl, take the gloves."

Rangiku let her sore fingers close on the gloves. Her hands were _not_ numb, not even close. She felt every sliver of weedy stalk shard in her hands, her palms, every small slit that stung with sweat and dust in the reddened flesh.

"Put 'em on, Ran," Gin said lowly, smiling as she slipped on the gloves. She smiled back a little, and for a moment, amid the grime of vegetation dust and the sweltering heat of the short-walled building, he thought she was more beautiful than ever, auburn hair in disarray in its sagging ponytail and all. "Wait for me to walk home."

She nodded, her fingers curling inside the gloves as his grin pulled a blush from her. "Thanks, Gin."

He nodded, and with a short bow to the foreman, left the barn.

The foreman watched him leave before looking back to Rangiku. "You don't look a thing like your brother," he said, eyes resting on the gloves too large for her hands. "You're both odd-looking."

She nodded and bent to pick up another thick stalk of sunflower. Her hands gripped it, the stem already feeling better in her clutch.

He left, and Rangiku resumed her work, every swing of the tall flower head against the wall bringing a grunt from her.

"Watch him," one of the women peeking around the wall told her. She withdrew as the flower head sent a spray of seeds into the air, and then looked around the bamboo wall again. Her handkerchief was tied over her dark hair, and her weather-beaten appearance made her seem older. "No one likes different here, girl."

Rangiku nodded, pausing only momentarily in beating the sunflower.

"Wear a scarf," the woman suggested, eyes shifting to the foreman watching them from the opposite wall.

"Back to work!" he shouted at them.

The woman gave Rangiku a slight nod and disappeared around the wall again.

Rangiku's hands on the stalk ached despite the gloves, but all she could think of was Gin's bare hands in the field.

* * *

That night the cool water from the brook beyond the shack was welcome to the two youths that sat at the edge. The grass was deep and nearly damp from dew setting in, Rangiku's pants tinted green at the knees as she knelt before Gin. They'd already soaked their feet in the refreshing water after a day on the threshing floor and in the fields, and then their hands. Now they were sitting on the bank facing each other.

"Hold still," she said as he tried to pull his hand away from her hold.

"It's nothing, Ran, just a little weed chaff." He'd been sitting on his knees for twenty minutes and his ankles were getting stiff. "They're okay."

She shook her head, pulling his fingers back to see his palm better in the moonlight. "You should have kept the gloves," she murmured, picking at a sliver of sunflower stalk. Her fingers were gentle, the fingernails broken from her work with the dried stalks picking at the small hair-like pricks of stem in his hands. "The green stalks are worse than the dried."

"I think the dried are worse," he said, watching the moonlight shine off her soft auburn hair bent over his hand. "You should've had gloves from the start of the day, Ran."

She looked up at him, his faint smile making her return one of her own. "Thanks for the gloves, Gin. I'm sorry they cost two weeks worth of work."

He shrugged, watching her fingernail wipe a few hairs of stem brush out of his palm. "It's worth it. Worth three weeks."

She giggled, shaking her head as she pulled a few larger, deeper splinters of green stalk from his palm. "Do they itch?"

He nodded. "Yep. Yours?"

"Not anymore."

He pulled his hand from hers and took her wrist, smoothing back the cuff of her shirt to see the palm of her hand. "Did you think any more about applying for the Soul Reaper Academy?"

She sighed, watching his hair part from the back of his head as his thumb and finger worked a splinter from her hand. "Do you think we would make it?"

"If'n we try hard enough, sure." He rubbed her palm where the splinter had been and turned her palm higher to see it better in the moonlight. "Do you want to try? Take the exam next month?"

She wanted to nod, to make him happy, maybe have a chance at making their life better, more secure. Instead she shrugged. "What do you think?" When he looked up from her hand his eyes were more visible than usual. "What do you really think about us trying out for the Academy, Gin? Could we be good enough?"

He nodded, fingers gripping her hand tighter. "We can find out."

"There's work for the next few months on the threshing floor. It would be steady," she said. "I heard the other women talking about it during a rest break." Her eyes dropped to his hand on hers, watching his thumb press into her palm. "If we went to the Academy we wouldn't be together anymore. Not like we are now."

Most of his grin fell away as he thought more about her words. "Maybe we can try out for the spring class. Take the exam then. What do you think to that?"

She liked the idea of a winter with him. "Spring?"

He nodded.

She nodded, smiling as he stood and pulled her to her feet.

"The spring."


	6. Chapter 6

Gin had tried to put thoughts of the academy in the Seireitei out of his mind, but they were there over the next few weeks. He and Rangiku spent that time working, working harder than he'd ever worked, and at the same time found himself happier than he'd been since he'd started collecting memories.

It wasn't the work that made his mood crook the grin deeper across his face. He knew that, and at times, he thought Rangiku knew it, too.

Snow fell early that fall, leading out of harvest and into winter, which meant Gin's job in the fields was done. By the time they'd been in the threshing and storage barns for a full month they'd accumulated enough in pay to buy adequate food to supplement their modest garden harvest.

The problem was that there was no food to be bought, not in any marketplace. Instead they found themselves buying oddities that didn't look odd to buy, like beets and walnuts under the pretenses of dying supplies and what seeds they could glean out of the sunflower fields after idleness fell over the harvest. It was extra work, but in the following few weeks they'd saved up several bushels of beets and walnuts and several sacks of seeds.

It proved to be the answer to only one of the more pressing problems that bothered Gin.

"I don't like it, Ran," he admitted quietly one morning as they lay awaiting the inevitable start of the day in the small, shadowed shack. "I don't think you should be so friendly to the men there. They might get the wrong idea."

She sighed, not looking to him as she shifted closer to him, her hair just at his chin on their shared pillow of rolled tarp. "I'm not that friendly, Gin, and he is my boss. I can't be rude."

With the early hint of falling of snow had come a timid proximity under the tarp. Neither Gin nor Rangiku had planned the contact, and to call it contact at all brought a round of blushes to both of them.

He'd noticed it first when a few wisps of her hair had been across his throat one morning the week before, realizing that it wasn't his, that the long strands of auburn-blonde that tugged at his skin belonged to her. She'd moved onto her side, pulling her hair away, which had made him roll onto his side, watching the profile of her body beneath the tarp in the filmy early light of morning.

Her hair was back now, just under his chin, smelling of the heady sunflower soap they used for washing. Her knees were pressed to the side of his leg beneath the blanket, neither of them wanting to get up and tend the dwindling fire in the pit. The room wasn't too cool yet, and the content welcome under the tarp warm.

"There's no work today," he said, shifting his attention from her as she looked to him. He failed after a moment, and looked back to her waiting face. "I want to see if the fish moved to deeper water in the stream. We could smoke the bigger ones. Make 'em last a bit longer. Less fires to build means less smoke, less visibility."

"Smoked fish sounds good," she said with a sigh, but then raised an eyebrow. "Why are you concerned about anyone finding us? No one comes around here, Gin. I've never seen anyone. No one even wants the food we've stored."

He nodded, watching her hair catch the dying fire's light. "I like it that way. Wanna keep it that way."

She giggled, which offset his pensive face.

He scowled at her light mood. "What's so funny about that, Ran?"

"You." She rose onto her elbows and looked at him better, bracing her forearms half on the rolled pillow. "No one cares that we're here. We take different paths back from town a few times a week, and no one wants to follow us to nowhere." Her voice lost some of its musical qualities. "I like our nowhere."

He did, too, but sometimes, like at that moment, when she was so near and honest with him it led to other thoughts. "I'm going out to check around. Back in a minute or two."

Rangiku settled onto her side, watching him throw back the tarp and then drag it over her with a few fingers, not looking to her as he quickly pulled on his shirt and coat. She knew it would be more than a minute or two. More like thirty.

She hadn't guessed as to the entire true nature of some of his abrupt absences from their bed, and Gin didn't want her to.

The cold air outside the shack was welcome, perfect and necessary for the little problem developing in his pants. It had been a recent development on a few of the mornings, and a few other times at night, and he wasn't sure if the accompanying horror or embarrassment was worse.

He picked his way along the perimeter of their garden in the early morning, the harvest having been gotten, leaving only a lumpy path of ground where the garden plot was. It wasn't _horror_ as much as his inability to stop himself from reacting to her, and _that_ Gin didn't like.

He didn't like the lack of control, that there was something beyond his efforts at manipulation.

It was becoming his biggest fear that Rangiku would notice and then he'd have to avoid her and yet face her day after day.

Actually, maybe it wasn't his worst fear, but one of them.

The gray frost was heavy, nearly thick enough to be called snow, and it lay in a blanket along the stream, making the morning water twinkle coldly at Gin as he walked along the side of the bank. The first snowfall had melted off the week before, burning away in the mid-morning sun. But now the weather was turning for cold with a more serious bend, and the mornings weren't likely to warm up much, even by noon.

Thoughts of his youthful manhood vanished as Gin stopped at the water's edge where the stream made a turn deeper into the thick woods, eyes widening on the footsteps near the bank.

Before him were a set of large foot-shaped indentations half-filled with dirty water from where they'd sunk into the mushy bank. Gin paused, and then looked around quickly. There was nothing to see, no tree or bird out of place, no unusual sounds. He searched the woods more thoroughly, unmoving from his spot.

There was nothing to see. Nothing amiss. He crouched and gave the footprints a better study. They were larger than his, male, leading to the edge of the water before turning back the way they'd come.

Towards town, he realized.

He didn't follow, his mind filled with desperation to get back to the shack, to where Rangiku would be sleeping in her unassuming safety. Alone.

And when he got there, she was.

Gin let her sleep, instead sinking to his heels at the doorway, lifting the edge of the tarp that covered the opening just enough to see her shapely form beneath the blanket at the bed.

Their bed.

His previous thoughts of her face inches from his own that morning retuned with lesser force, not enough to give rise to his former problem.

He sat back against the shack wall on the porch, letting the tarp drop back down. He rested his elbows on his bent knees, mind twisting over the images of the footprints. He looked at the small yard they called their homestead, the tufts of cold grass still covered with heavy frost. He wondered who the someone belonging to the footprints was, not liking the invasion.

Not one bit.

* * *

Rangiku didn't know about the footprints. Gin didn't tell her, even when she asked repeatedly about where he went a few of the mornings before she was awake, or slipped out after they'd went to bed for the night.

She didn't press the issue. She didn't know anything about his life before he'd found her starving that day in September. She couldn't remember much of her own, in fact.

She let his mysterious comings and goings just happen, a little sad when he was gone, but not quite as frightened after the first few times. He always came back.

The snow was a few inches deep when their jobs in town were finished for a week's hiatus. They were promised more work once the sacking of shelled grain began, and that was to be followed by more miscellaneous jobs.

She and Gin celebrated their newfound freedom with a meal of smoked fish and boiled parsnips. It was the first of the fish they'd smoked in the small barrel smoker Gin had patched together from spare parts they'd rummaged from town. The taste was light, not quite as salty as the other portions would be as they were stored longer over the winter, and Rangiku wished her new friend's attention was closer to the confines of the shack.

As it was, Gin sat beside her near the small fire in the pit that evening under dark skies heavy with snow. The wind whistled through the cracks in the walls, but the interior was warm enough, as long as they were close to each other.

"What're you thinking about?" she finally asked when his mood seemed especially quiet. "I thought you wanted to have the days off from work. We can sleep in in the morning."

He nodded, giving her half a grin. "We won't come out from under the blanket until noon high."

She smiled, pushing the plate of fish closer to him. He took a chunk of the caramel-brown smoked meat.

"You really want to go back to work, Ran?" he asked, eyes on the fish he held before him, turning it to see the flakes that resembled wood grain from being smoked. "You could stay here, sleep in, do your basket mending. You wouldn't have to go to town."

She glanced to the reeds and half finished basket in the corner of the shack. It was just a hobby, the first time she'd woven a broken patch of basket back together for one of the women on the threshing floor, but the woman had been impressed. Now Rangiku found herself with baskets to mend several times a week. The pay wasn't what she got from working the sunflowers, but it was easier on her hands.

"I like going with you."

He nodded, popping the bite of fish into his mouth. "Hours are slowing down. I'd be back sooner, Ran. You could stay here, warm and dry."

"I like the snow." She nibbled at a piece of fish, watching his eyes remain on the boiled parsnips on the plate between them. She knew he was looking at her even if she couldn't see his eyes clearly. She'd learned that much about him. "Why don't you want me to go?"

He shrugged noncommittally, skirting the real reason. In truth, Rangiku's supervisor hadn't made that many remarks, but Gin had seen the furtive glances her sent her way when she wasn't looking. They were the same looks most men on the floor gave his Rangiku, but the man was her boss, and Gin knew that made a difference. That authority position made an employee bend in ways they normally wouldn't go, and he didn't like thinking Rangiku could be bent in any way he didn't want her to.

"Your shoes aren't good enough for the snow," he said lamely.

She stopped chewing, looking to her shoes at the door lined beside his against the wall. "They're just as good as your shoes, Gin."

"Well, my feet are tougher."

She giggled and let her elbow give his side a playful nudge. "That's silly."

He let her think so, glad that the conversation had changed to one of less intensity. He still had four days of their week off from work to convince her to stay at the shack.

Rangiku let the topic drop without suspicion, even when she heard him sneak out of their bed that night. She felt his weight shift away from her on the mat, the blanket settle around her in absence of him. She kept her eyes mostly closed as he pulled on his coat and shoes, and then silently slipped out the tarp-covered door. She sighed, resting her head on his side of the rolled pillow, her mind drifting to where he could possibly be going after midnight in the dark, snowy night.

Gin didn't quite know where he was going, either, but made his usual trek from the shack perimeter to the stream, and then followed it down towards where it headed to town. The night was cold, the wind rising into a biting, gusty force that sent swirls of snow into his face.

There would probably be nothing to see, he told himself. There hadn't been since two days ago when he'd seen the footprints. But still, every night and every morning, he'd check, always making sure Rangiku hadn't followed him.

He was ready for there to be nothing again, but this time another figure was making its way across the stream. Gin stopped, watching the dark form move quietly through the sparse underbrush, the footfalls muted in the rising wind. It was male, that he could determine, and moving quickly upstream, towards the shack. Gin turned and mirrored his progress from his side of the stream, keeping hidden in the brush.

His mind felt cold, numb, thinking becoming hard as he followed the man. He'd have to cross the narrow waterway, Gin knew, if the man was heading for their shack. The thought sickened him. Why in the dead of night?

Ahead of him the figure sped up, suddenly leaping the stream at a spot Gin knew to be narrower. Gin broke into a run, forgetting his attempts at stealth. The shack had just come into view ahead of them when the man turned and spied Gin following.

A low chuckle came from beneath the man's thin mustache, and Gin recognized Rangiku's foreman. His hands balled into fists, mind sorting through the very few reasons the man could be there.

"Why don't you wander away for a while, boy, so I can visit your little friend for a few hours?" he said in a low tone, taking a step closer to Gin. "Get lost for a while."

Gin stood his ground, no hint of smile on his face. "What do you want?"

This time there was more amusement in the man's laugh. "You're old enough to appreciate a girl in her blooming phase, boy, aren't you?" He shook his head, sizing Gin up again. "Maybe you're not."

"Leave her be," Gin said, feeling a cold seep through his skin that had nothing to do with the dark air around him. "Get outta here."

One corner of the man's mouth crooked in a sly smile. "Well, if you can't value a girl like her yet, boy, move along. I can, and I think your little Ran-chan needs some learning in the art of pleasure."

Gin wasn't sure which part of the man's words made him angrier, and he didn't take the time to figure it out. The man turned his back, following the stream back up to where the shack had appeared around a bend in the waterway.

Without thinking Gin rushed him, covering the few yards of frozen ground in seconds. His smaller form knocked the man down, the impact bringing grunts from each of them. Gin scrambled onto the man's back as they fell, his hands reaching for his throat.

"Why you little -" the man's words were cut off as Gin wrapped both his hands around the man's neck, and then moved to his head, grabbing fiercely as he twisted quickly. The wrenching motion was followed by a snapping sound, bones under torque separating into new pieces. A bellow broke from the man, but was muted as Gin pushed his face into the deep debris of leaves and twigs until the sound was muffled. He held him down, bracing his knee on the back of the older man's neck, his other knee at the small of his back.

It took longer than Gin thought, holding the man to the cold ground until the air was forced out of him, long enough to stop his breathing in the leaves and snow. The man's hands clawed at him, clumsy movements as he tried to free Gin's fingers from pressing the breath out of him. Slowly the thrashing legs and hands ceased, arms falling awkwardly to his sides. Gin didn't move, hands locked on the man's neck, arms aching from the strain. He felt the last air depart in a collapse, the man's body going limp.

Even then he waited a few more moments before sitting back. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving the corpse. When it remained unmoving for a few moments, Gin pushed him over onto his back.

He wasn't ready for the face. The eyes were wide and hollow, vacant black spots, dead and unfocused, mouth gaping, leaves sticking to one side.

He scooted back a few feet, the gravity of his actions making him suddenly cautious. He let his eyes dart in the direction of the shack. There was no sound from it.

She suspected nothing.

His Ran was safe, and she suspected nothing.

He looked back to the dead man.

He'd never seen death so close before.

Rangiku had no idea how long Gin had been gone, only knew when she awoke he was there, sitting at the edge of the mat, his breathing fast, but his skin cold.

"You've been outside," she said accusingly, pushing back the blanket in the fire's low light. She reached for his hand, wishing she could see his eyes better. "What could you possibly be doing at this time of night, Gin?"

Her fingers curled beneath his hand, drawing him closer when he remained immobile. He looked down to her hand, following her beckon as she drew him near.

It seemed so natural to her, pulling him close into the bed and lifting the blanket around his bare shoulders. She'd never felt his skin so cold before. Not that there'd been much opportunity to, she realized, but something about it seemed especially wrong.

She settled the tarp behind his back, tenting it around them, and then with only a few reservations, pulled him into her arms. He let himself go, resting his chest against hers, sighing as her arms folded around him.

"You're freezing, Gin," she said softly in his ear at her face. She rubbed his back for a few seconds, but instead he maneuvered his arms over hers, encompassing her smaller frame. She let her arms encircle his waist, hands rubbing his back against the cold.

"Did you fall in the stream?" she asked, looking to his unreadable face near hers, trying to find some hint as to why he was so cold.

"It's snowing out," he said, arms wrapping tighter around her until she could barely move. There was no resistance in her, only her yielding form against his.

She nodded, and then let herself follow as he lowered them to one side, foreheads almost touching on the pillow. She left her arms around his waist, smiling a little when he pulled the blanket over them to their necks.

Her head ducked beneath his chin, her body warming his slowly as her hands stilled moving over his back. She sighed and settled closer, arms tightening.

"I like the snow," she said, her voice against his chest, breath warm.

"Me, too," he said, frowning at the wall behind her.

He only hoped there would be enough snowfall to hide what he'd done.

* * *

**Authors' Note: **_Thanks for reading, and thanks again to everyone who reviewed, favorited or alerted this story!_


	7. Chapter 7

Rangiku knew she should move away as soon as she woke up the next morning, but she didn't want to. Her eyes opened to the early light of the shack's interior, her breath frosting slightly in the too cool air, as the fire had died out long ago.

Her head rested at Gin's chest, just to the side of his shoulder. She could see his chin above, so close that when she glanced up she felt her eyelashes brush his skin.

He slept on, eyes closed - completely - and she looked back to her arm stretched across his stomach, her hand anchored in his beneath the tarp at his side. She knew where his other arm was, could feel his right hand draped over the curve of her hip under the tarp blanket.

She unknowingly sighed, feeling his fingers move slightly on her hip. She didn't look up, hoping he wouldn't wake.

He was warm again, whatever had brought on the chill from the night before gone. She didn't want to think about why he left the comfort and warmth of the shack at night. Maybe he always had. She heard his heartbeat quicken beneath her cheek and looked up to his face.

"Good morning, Ran," he said, half a grin twitching across his mouth.

She smiled back, her cheeks blushing peach. "Good morning, Gin." She sighed, and slowly disengaged herself from him, pulling her hand from his, laying more to her side of their shared pillow. His arm was still around her waist beneath her back, but he didn't pull it away. She shifted. "You're arm will go numb."

"Not for a while."

She pulled the blanket higher around them, mind searching for a topic outside of the shack and their proximity. "I have to take two baskets into town today. I promised the potter's wife."

He groaned. "Today?" A heaviness leant his tone. "How 'bout tomorrow, Ran? We'll just sit today out. Eat smoked fish until we grow gills."

She giggled, pushing at his side before wiping back a thick swag of auburn-blonde hair that fell over her face. "I promised. Besides, she said she could line up more work for me."

He frowned more at her for reasons she could never guess. "Okay, but we'll go later. After a while."

* * *

After a while was after a hefty lunch of smoked fish and somewhat shriveled-looking potatoes. Rangiku didn't really want to head back into town on a day off from their jobs, but she wanted the money from the potter's wife for her handiwork. Even more she wanted the references for other jobs.

Gin had them take a completely new pathway into town, a trek that made them show up at the far side of the rougher districts, making them find their way through the cold, hard streets under the overcast sun above.

He looked down at Rangiku's shoes as she walked beside him. At first he didn't see her shoes, nor her feet; nothing but her patched coat sticking out over her slender waist. He quickly looked away, but then found his attention going back to the distraction.

"You're outgrowing your coat," he said when she caught his stare.

A sparkle came to her blue eyes at his notice. She crossed her arms tighter over her waist, which only plumped her coat more. She sighed. "I guess it's all the good food you supply, Gin. It wasn't a problem before."

He grinned, nudging her side with his elbow, making her take a side step on the cold street. "Not a problem now, either. Just noticing."

She smiled wider, pulling her two baskets closer by their handles. "I promise not to eat you out of winter stock."

Part of his grin turned more serious. "And I promise to keep stocked."

She nodded, and was about to speak when a commotion from the next street corner grew in volume. Gin frowned as they looked there, unable to see much as the excited voices came from around an intersection of better shops.

"I wonder what's going on," Rangiku mused, straining her neck to see further. She looked down as Gin's hand took her arm.

"Probably a bar brawl. Let's not watch."

She gave him a quizzical look as he tugged harder, pulling her by the arm to the opposite side of the street as they neared the intersection. More people were trickling down the frozen clay streets in the opposite direction as Rangiku and Gin pushed against the townsfolk.

Gin didn't try to hide them among the crowd, instead ducking them to an alley that cut through several back streets closer to the potter's shop. He saw Rangiku look behind them, saw her eyes wide with curiosity as she tried to see what the commotion was about. He pulled on her arm harder, giving her frustrated glance a grin.

"Don't you want to know what's going on?" she asked, annoyance leasing her tone. He slowed them to a stop at another street further into town where the traffic was scarcer and noise of the disturbance couldn't be heard as well. "Gin, aren't you interested at all?"

He shrugged, content that they were walking away from what he was certain was trouble. "Naw, it's probably just something silly. Like a new color of yarn getting spun, or one of them Soul Reapers getting promoted. You know they always have to trot themselves through town like they're special. Show off their white coats."

She laughed, shaking her head as she let him lead them down another street that had a few spots of snow in the shadowed corners. "No, I did _not_ know that. I'm still kind of new here."

Her acceptance of his explanations pleased him. He leaned closer to her ear, which he noticed wasn't exactly aligned with his anymore. "The new captains and vice captains always traipse through town looking to show off when they get promoted. Get drunk, too. I've seen 'em."

"Really?"

He nodded, grinning a little more as he realized she wasn't the only one who'd grown since her arrival at their shack. She was clearly shorter, which meant he'd grown a bit taller. "They have big shindigs at the complex, but then they always come into town to make their presence known, so we can see their fancy uniforms."

She looked across the street to a pair of men that led a straggling line of black unformed shinigami. One of the front men coughed for a long moment, while his comrade chuckled, his pink floral haori visible from beneath his white robes. "I don't think they're that fancy. Except that one. Maybe he's not a captain like the one in the white coat."

Gin followed her stare to where Ukitake Juushirou and Shunsui Kyouraku were heading the group of shinigami. He watched the fairer man continue to cough, slowing his pace and that of the other shinigami behind them. He didn't like the idea of so many military troops in Rukongai. It wasn't a party to celebrate a new captain or vice captain - _that_ Gin knew. The presence meant something else.

"Oh, he's a captain," he said in a low tone, edging her to the building side of the street more. He kept himself between the troops and Rangiku as some of the younger, newer recruits of the joint squads glanced their way. "I've seen him before. Likes to chase the girls. Lots of girls."

Rangiku looked across the street as the line of shinigami continued on toward the disturbance further in town. "Maybe someone's in trouble."

"Yeah, someone's in trouble, all right," a voice said from behind them.

Gin's blood felt cold in his veins as he and Rangiku slowed their steps and turned. A youth a little older than them jogged up to meet them. Rangiku had seen him a few times when she waited on Gin to finish work, a slighter man with a slight limp at times. He nodded to them, looking to Gin.

"The foreman that runs the threshing floor and two of the stalk storage barns was found dead this morning," he told them, looking to the line of shinigami that were rounding a corner out of sight, Ukitake's cough growing fainter. He looked back to them. "He was found at the mouth of the South River, where it empties into the pond at the mill. Drowned or something." He shrugged, looking to Rangiku for a moment before turning his attention to Gin. "I hear he's got a broken neck, but no one's said for sure. Lots of gossip going around. A lot of the other workers are saying it was a jealous husband. You know he liked to get too friendly with some of the girls."

Gin nodded, keeping his expression from showing anything but a line at his mouth.

Rangiku shook her head, unconsciously leaning to Gin's side. "He was killed?"

The youth shrugged, no remorse in his face. "Maybe. He's been run out of more than a few districts by a lot of husbands. By lots of boyfriend and brothers, too." He grinned a little at her. "Maybe you'll have a couple more days off, if they don't find another foreman soon."

Rangiku pulled her baskets closer, unsure if more days off was good news or bad. It meant less pay, but she liked the idea of sleeping in in the cold mornings. She looked to Gin as he frowned more, surprising herself when she realized sleeping in mornings wouldn't be as much fun if Gin had already left for his own job for the day. After all, his foreman was still very much alive.

"Thanks," Gin told the co-worker, hoping he'd move along before he had to start making up falsehoods. "We'll keep that in mind."

"Yeah, thought you'd want to know." He glanced at the baskets hooked over Rangiku's arm.

Gin took Rangiku's elbow and turned her back into motion as a stiff breeze of cold air found its way through the streets. "We'll see you later."

They were moving away before the other boy could speak, and Gin shuffled Rangiku along. "Let's get your baskets delivered."

A few streets later they found the potter's shop on what would have been the sunnier side of the street, had the sun been out in force. Gin had escorted Rangiku there a few times before. This time he stayed outside as the potter's wife invited Rangiku in to discuss baskets and further work.

He stood at the side of the closed door, hearing Rangiku's voice interwoven with that of the older woman. He smiled when he realized the melodic quality voice in his new friend. It was a sound he liked hearing in the morning, nearly matching how much he liked the way her eyes smiled at him more freely now since her joining his shack the last few weeks. More than a month, in fact.

A pressing aura pushed at him, one he felt invade his reiatsu without even knowing the name of the force. His suspicions eked higher with his guardedness as the pressure neared. He knew there were a lot of Soul Reapers in the district, something that usually didn't bother Gin, but today it made him wary.

"I noticed you didn't apply for the academy this season," Aizen said from the corner of the street.

Gin's attention snapped around to see the bespectacled shinigami. He frowned at him instantly, and then the scowl lessened a bit. "You did?"

Aizen smiled his typical smile. "You've got quite the signature presence."

Gin grinned a little. "You must've had a lot of students to sort through."

Aizen nodded, glancing to the closed door of the pottery shop. "You've both got it. The academy accepts female registrants, too, if your friend is interested." He took a few steps closer to Gin, one hand on the katana hilt holstered at his side. "Lots of opportunities in the Seireitei. More than Rukongai."

Gin nodded, eyes shifting to where a raucous argument from a few streets away arose.

Aizen looked that way, too, and then turned his attention back to Gin. "I suppose you've heard about the man from the sunflower farm being killed last night."

Gin nodded only slightly.

Aizen shrugged non-committally. "Some people say he got his just due, that he pursued the wrong woman this time."

Gin frowned, his hands jammed in his pockets balling into fists. He wished Rangiku would hurry up, yet he didn't want her to come out just yet. Not when this Soul Reaper was talking about the subject at hand.

Aizen's smile came back. "Some say he drowned. Either way, he'll not be missed."

"Might be some that miss him," Gin said, feeling obligated to add to the conversation.

Aizen looked to where the voices were fading a few streets over as the argument dwindled. "There might be." He glanced at the door as Rangiku laughed, and then looked back to Gin. "Take a walk with me. Let me tell you about some of the opportunities being a Soul Reaper offers.

Gin frowned, gaze going to the door at his side.

"Don't worry about her," Aizen said, smiling benignly. "We'll only be a few moments. We won't go far, Gin."

* * *

**Authors' Note:** _Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing this story!_


	8. Chapter 8

Gin hung back a bit at Aizen's side as they made their way through the chilly, bustling streets of Rukongai. Talk was still buzzing about the murder, but it wasn't all bad. Not all bad at all, Gin realized.

Not everyone thought the overseer's death was quite the shock it could have been, or even a complete crime in some opinions.

Gin thought it odd. He'd heard of people being killed before, and it had always been a travesty then; but this, this was different.

"Some things fall outside the usual parameters of right and wrong," Aizen said. He didn't look to Gin as he said it, his eyes still on the crowds giving them the right of way as they passed.

Gin looked to him, his face as guarded as ever.

Aizen's gaze shifted to where a group of shinigami was gathered at a corner of streets. "Soul Reapers do that all the time, Gin, decide right and wrong. They make mistakes sometimes, too," he said with a sigh. Now he glanced to him. "We all do. It's not fair, but little is fair, in any dimension, here or the Living World."

Gin frowned more, looking to the shinigami, which included the two he and Rangiku had seen earlier.

"You wouldn't think it," Aizen continued as they turned down a side street, "but many of the highest ranked in Soul Society shouldn't have their captain's coats."

Gin considered Aizen's black robes. He wore no insignia, no mark of rank or accomplishment; simply the katana had his hip. He looked back the way they'd come. "I shouldn't go far."

Aizen nodded, pausing as he looked to where the Seireitei perched on the hill, as if looking out over the cluster of districts of Rukongai like a distant, ill-bred relative. "Some get their rank by birth. The nobles are born into it," he said, a combination of wistfulness and envy in his tone. "And some by sheer seniority," he said, looking to another street where Ukitake's coughing could be heard. He let a smile come to his face as he looked back at Gin. "But power is what sets that and those who deserve a position of rank apart. All Soul Reapers govern life and death in the Living World, Gin, but not nearly as many in the after life. But you've done that, haven't you?"

The semi-smile that Gin had frozen onto his face threatened to slip. He quirked it back into a steady line, lips set as he looked narrowly at Aizen. "I don't have any power over what goes on here. We just get by, me and, and my friend," he said, hesitant to divulge Rangiku by name. He frowned. "We just work —"

"Yes, I know. The sunflower mill and the baskets," Aizen said, nodding. There was no mocking in his tone, but there was a knowing look on his face that Gin didn't understand. He let his attention wander to the thicker part of town where the noise of conversation was louder. "It will only get worse, living and working here, Gin. She's going to become a young lady. Many will notice."

Gin couldn't remain as aloof as he wanted to now, but as he began to speak, the shinigami continued.

"Your spiritual presence isn't the only requirement for the entrance exam," he said, moving the subject away from Rangiku. "You'd have to work hard, apply yourself. You'd be tested. Both of you. With determination and a little well-deserved favor by keeping good marks, you'd advance quickly."

Gin watched him look back to the city on the slope. "Are you a lieutenant?"

Aizen had expected the question. He nodded. "But not yet. And then on to captain." He chuckled at the confusion crossing Gin's face. "I will be. I know it now; That's one of the things you'll learn there, Gin, is that your partner in your role as a Soul Reaper knows as much or more than you at times." His hand went to the hilt of his sword as he said it, a movement Gin barely noticed. "Not through birthright or seniority," he said, "but because some of us are destined for much more than idle ranks. Like yourself."

They turned back down the street they'd come, passing a group of shinigami that nodded in Aizen's direction as they met them, none of them giving Gin a second glance.

Gin looked over his shoulder as the group passed him. Some weren't much older than him. They were well-fed and seemed happy, and two were female. He squinted at their retreating forms, and then looked back to Aizen.

"The next testing is in about six weeks," the man said as they turned a corner back to the potter's shop. "They usually hold spring and fall exams, but sometimes they make exceptions." He cleared his throat. "Can I expect you to make the attempt?"

Gin frowned. He knew Rangiku was comfortable with their shack and meager life. He realized he was, too; but then he thought about the feel of the man's struggling head in his hands as he pushed him into the snow in the night. He hadn't liked it. Even worse, was when the man stopped struggling, and he knew the foreman was dead, and that he'd done it.

His hands balled into fists to keep them from trembling. He looked back to Aizen. "Maybe. Ain't all my decision."

Aizen nodded slowly. "I thought you were one to make your own decisions."

Gin scowled at the indirect jab. "I am, but I don't like to leave her alone. Not safe."

"Exactly. Which is why some wouldn't have any issues with how you handled," Aizen dipped his head lower to Gin's side, "_some_ things," he added in a lower tone. "Some people are just ants; less of a life than others." He straightened, nodding as Gin watched him.

Gin swallowed, trying to keep down the question that burned to be asked. He studied Aizen's face, looking for any indication that the shinigami knew – actually _knew_ – what he'd done. Aizen smiled at him, shaking his head.

"See what your friend thinks."

They walked back to the potter's shop, and Aizen parted Gin's company near the corner of the street. Gin didn't mind. He preferred it that way. He didn't really want to tell Rangiku what he'd talked about with the Soul Reaper, because he really wasn't so sure himself.

He got the feeling the shinigami called Aizen knew something about the dead overseer, but he hadn't said so. Not exactly. Gin stuffed his hands into his pockets as Rangiku saw him coming down the street. She was already waiting, hugging a broken basket close to her chest as she out-waited the cold day.

She smiled at him, but part of that was broken by a sigh. "I thought you were gone, Gin."

He grinned, taking the basket from her as they started down the street. "Just a walk for a bit, Ran. Just listening to the talk around town."

She hugged her arms across her chest, which only stressed the front closures already under duress.

Gin watched the strain on the bamboo closures, and then looked down the street when she looked to him, oblivious.

"Was that the shinigami? Aizen?"

He nodded. "I think we should try out for the exams next time they come around. What do you think?"

She sighed heavily. "Do you really want to, Gin?"

He shrugged. "It'd be better than working at the barns and threshing floors." No foremen, he added silently to that thought. "Warm in the winter, all the food we could eat. People like us, Ran, that can feel what we do."

He added the last with such solemnity that she looked to him for a long moment. They walked through the still crowded streets, losing themselves easily until they had cleared the last district and found one of Gin's favorite paths back home.

She had a lot of questions about his unusual quietness. She'd learned he was far from vocal about a lot of things, but he always talked when she asked him questions. She wasn't sure she always got answers from him, but he always talked to her. Now he wore an especially thoughtful expression.

She didn't press the issue, content to be on their way home, and once there, had a supper of smoked fish and slightly shriveled carrots while the fire in the pit tried in vain to warm the room.

Gin made excuses to go outside after they ate, just as night fully fell and the struggling fire died low in the pit in the too cool shack. Rangiku took the time to change clothes, shivering in the cold air that still permeated the room. They'd let the fire die out when they left for town that day, and the damp wood was difficult to build into a warm fire, and night only brought more cold.

She shrugged on her top, the largest one of her two, and frowned as she tried to pull the front ends together. They barely met, and she held her breath to fasten the sides.

She sighed after it was shut, but carefully. "I'm getting fat," she said softly, flipping her hair out of the collar.

"You ain't fat, Ran," Gin said.

She turned quickly, and at the same time the top closure sprung free. She sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed the broken clasp with one hand.

Gin's eyes nearly opened. His arms tightened around the bundle of twigs he'd collected, and then he grinned and looked away.

Her fingers eased away from her top, lips pursing as she volleyed between a blush and indignation. "It's not funny," she said sharply.

"I ain't laughing." He smiled wider, not looking to her as he went to the pit and knelt to build up the fire with drier wood.

"You're grinning."

He nodded.

She sighed cautiously, and then knelt by the edge of the tatami mat.

He chanced a look her way. Most of the grin left his face. "You left that open?"

Rangiku looked down at the top damaged closure still loose. "I can't fix it. Besides," she said, fighting a flush at her attempt at boldness, "I can finally breathe."

Gin glanced at her longer before he could stop himself. It was just a top bamboo peg that was still free from its buttonhole, the strain of confines over the last few weeks wearing the opening thin enough to split the cotton material. He looked to Rangiku's face.

She was blushing, and immediately turned her back to him. She pulled back the canvas blanket to their bed and crawled in, lying down and pulling the blanket to her chin.

Gin had paused in his fire building, and a piece of kindling he still held suddenly grew warm. He dropped it as the fire caught up to his fingers. He rubbed his hand on his pants.

"Did you get burned?" she asked.

"Nope."

She sighed, smiling in the muted light at the freer movement of the exhale. She hadn't realized how restrictive her clothing had become. Out of habit she pulled the blanket closer, confident in the room's darkness.

Gin built up the fire. It burnt brighter for a few moments, sending shadows licking across the walls in the cool air.

"It's snowing again outside," he said needlessly.

She looked to him. "Do you really want to be Soul Reapers, Gin?"

When he hesitated in answering, or moving, she pulled down his side of the blanket.

He sat back on his heels across from the fire, watching the light from the flames lend a pale amber color to her hair. Of all the things he wished they had, a proper door on the shack was top priority. "Do you?"

Her fingers curled over the blanket edge, drawing it closer to her in invitation for him to join her. "Do you think we could get in?"

He poked a twig at the fire, and then met her at the mat. He quickly lay down and pulled the blanket over himself, over them both of them, in the chilly air. "I think so, yeah. We'd still be together." He glanced to her, able to see her expression droop a little as he said it. "Well, we wouldn't be apart, Ran. Not really. It would just be different."

She nodded, eyes closing as she turned on her side to face him. "You wouldn't forget about me with all the new students there?"

He chuckled, was tempted to nudge her with an elbow, but didn't, unsure where he'd make contact. "'Course not. We can think about it for awhile."

She sighed, her breath warm on his shoulder as her bent knees pressed to the side of his leg. "Okay. I guess so."

"Good."

Gin pulled the blanket higher, feeling her breath fall across his skin in slow rhythms, knowing she was sleeping within moments. He knew Rangiku felt secure in their cozy shack, which wasn't quite so cozy at the moment with the coolness in the air.

But it was getting toastier, mostly because of the body heat shared beneath the blanket. At the same time, the snow outside left telltale tracks, footprints, to anyone curious enough to follow them.

It wasn't a problem Gin had had to worry about the other winters.

Perhaps Aizen was right.

* * *

**Authors' Note:** _Thank you for reading and all the reviews. We're kind of unsure about how to proceed with this story, seeing the last manga flashbacks for Rangiku and Gin..._


End file.
